"Have a nice day at the office dear," says Phil’s wife Lil. Phil assures Lil in a clear level-headed way that he will have a nice day.
Phil arrives for another day of work at Acme Mega Corporation. As he stares at row after row of numbers on his computer screen and deals with various office administrative responsibilities, his mind begins to wander.
"Give me a Pez dispenser filled with candy, or I’ll have you beheaded, while the dark purple beetles rotate among the olives, and I stare at the sun, waiting for the next directive," says Phil’s boss Jill, a shifty woman with a sense of destiny.
Phil’s boss Jill sends a memo which reads, "The porcelain jock straps are affixed to the dead green turtles floating in the bay, while liquid knives bounce around within your portfolio, as the Christian children sing a crimson hymn." Phil files the memo.
At lunchtime, Phil and his co-worker Nil retreat to a yellow-umbrella-covered landscape of apple martinis and insincere glances. Afterward, Phil regroups and marches out into the cold sunshine, pulling its frigid rays into his soul. Every little molecule seems warm and cold at the same time.
Phil is on top of the trends as he clips his toenails with Hyper-Edgematic-Tonal Toe Clippers, feeling a pleasant "hummmm...." with each toenail clip. A squid nearby grapples with the coffee maker.
The air conditioner is out of control, so in the shivering Gulag, Phil writes desperate notes to repairmen while shivering employees are hunched on the boughs of criminal tedium. He doesn’t know whether the shifting of marginal tendencies will affect his agenda, but he is willing to listen to the squid. The air conditioner repairman says that he has fixed the problem, and indeed the temperature returns to an optimal level.
While reviewing an invoice from a plastics manufacturer, Phil realizes that he is hostile to plastics, and consults with his co-worker Will, who tells him that he’s riding the gravy boat to happy hypocrisy. Upon reviewing invoices for the use of alternative materials, such as copper and rubber, Phil realizes that plastic is the best alternative.
Phil meets with Jill for a performance review. "Your mind is like a ping pong ball bouncing back and forth between the dark playroom and a smoke-filled cesspool, where you’ll be pulled in with the rabble," says Jill to Phil.
Phil goes to the salubrious gymnasium for a workout of verbal wordplay, followed by a sponge bath from the morally errant towel staff. The pool attendants walk down the hall, their plumes brushing against the nape of Phil’s neck, as blood pours out of a faucet into an inflating bag of skin.
Phil arrives home from work, clarity returning to his mind. "Did you have a nice day at work?" asks Phil’s wife Lil. Phil assures Lil that he did.